


The Pack Dinner

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Category: Stargent - Fandom, Stetopher - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV), sciles - Fandom, steter - Fandom
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Scott, Anal Fingering, Anal Gaping, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Sharing, Come Swallowing, Coming In Pants, Dinner, Dinner table sex, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Omega Peter, Oral sex mentioned, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Sexting, Shameless Smut, Simultaneous Orgasm, Smut, Spit Kink, Threesome - M/M/M, anal sex mentioned, double penetration mentioned, energygasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-06-20 08:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15530463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: The gang get together for a pack dinner at Chris Argent's house. Chris is dating Peter Hale, but none of the wolves seem to know that Stiles is the older men's lover. Stiles gets horny during dinner and becomes a naughty boy.





	1. Soiled Napkins

**Author's Note:**

> I gave myself a 60-minute challenge to write this, plus some editing. Hope it's good all the same! Enjoy!

**You look hot. Fuck.**    
Stiles types rapidly under the camouflage of the table, the tip of his rosy tongue caught on his lower teeth as he concentrates. He presses SEND and waits. It would take a lot to wipe the smug look off his adorable face. He is very aware of the effect he has on the man and is expecting an interesting reaction. It's not every day Stiles gets this horny when it's so inappropriate.  
  
Nobody else notices that he’s distracted. Peter sits to the left of Chris, discussing something with Malia. Isaac’s focus is on the chocolate cake in front of him, while Scott and Derek are deeply analyzing the next part of the plan.   
Yes. There’s always a plan. Mainly because there’s always a problem in Beacon Hills.   
  
Stiles’ dick throbs to the beat of his heart. This is currently  _his_  issue to deal with. The brunette crosses his long legs to try and stifle the pounding but it only makes it worse. Every time he looks over at the older man, something stirs and it’s beginning to drive him insane. He mentally lists what he adores about him.   
Sexy azure eyes that would make the sky hide in shame. Check.  
The soft beard, lightly speckled with grey. Check.  
Sinewy muscles that wrap around Stiles’ body when he thrusts into him… SHIT. Check.  
Stiles is so fucking stiff. An image of the man’s magnificent cock projects into his brain. The same that pounded him into the mattress last night while Peter Hale watched. It's golden and powerful like some heavenly wand, except for the burgundy tip which is always asking to be sucked. Check. Fuck. Fucking check!   
  
Sweet god. The need.  
  
Across the table, Chris Argent’s pocket vibrates. The tanned hand holding his glass of wine trembles slightly. He’s doing everything in his power to not look at the boy, which would mean to blatantly give away the fact that they’ve been fucking for weeks. The very sight of him makes Chris' features melt and his cock bleed pre-cum.   
He retrieves the phone and opens the text from beneath the table linen. The hunter grins to himself and blushes. The answer is brief.  
**STOP IT. There are people here, Stiles. Later. I promise.**  
  
Argent secretly loves it, but he doesn’t want to risk exposure. The pack isn’t ready for this.  
Stiles’ expressive eyebrows cross when he reads the reply. His comeback had been composed two minutes earlier, though probably now it sounds less eloquent than when he had initially planned it in his dirty mind.  
**OH REALLY? So there’s people. Who cares? You look hot af. I’m marble here. I wanna make you cream your pants. Watch it dribble from your slit and then lick it off your privates later. I'm gonna wear your spunky underwear on my face like a mask tonight.**  
  
Chris’ baby blues sparkle and he swallows down a grunt. One side of his mouth curls. He sucks in an already tight breath, the room in his jeans suddenly reduced by half. He pretends to care about what Peter and Malia are saying. It takes him longer to respond because he types back with one hand, stealing glances at the keyboard with his right eye as he nods absent-mindedly.  ****  
I hate you. Now _I’m_  hard! Stiles, you are being a bad boy. A very bad boy. I may have to take you to the weapons room and punish you.   
  
The boy smirks, pushing the corner of his phone against his cock. It grates against the zipper and Stiles moans softly.   
**Promise?** The aftershave wafting over makes his skin prickle in excitement.  **Don't back out. Otherwise I'll tell Peter and then we'll both be in trouble.**  
  
Scott looks over a moment later, smelling the sudden arousal. Probably normal with a bunch of hormonal teens in one room, but he scans the faces of the people seated to figure out who it is. The activity is not without an element of amusement. Stiles is the only one who looks flush, though.   
“Stiles, you okay? You look a little…bothered.” Scott can’t hold back the coy smile. Now that he leans in, the pheromones are thick on his best friend.   
“Wh-what?” The brunette stammers, panicked. A nervous bounce possesses his bony knee. The phone he's hiding is stuck up his sleeve. “Nothing. I’m fine. What? No.”   
Derek’s brow furrows. Now he’s suspicious, too. “Stop acting even more spazzy than you usually do, Stiles. What the hell?”   
Stiles sticks his tongue out at the dark-haired beauty. He appreciates the wolf’s good looks, but kinda hates him since he always acts like an asshole.   
“Stop being such a sourwolf,  _Derek._ Go back to your scheming.”   
  
Chris catches the scene in his peripheral vision and gulps. His fingers glide over the screen, wishing it was Stiles’ smooth behind he was caressing. He shuts his eyes briefly and on the back of his lids runs his most recent memory…the brunette’s round, perfect ass cheeks spread for him, Chris’ thickness drilling him for most of the night.   
**If only Derek knew where that tongue was last night. I want you, Stiles. Fuck. You woke the dragon.**  
The phone vibrates in Stiles’ hand and it feels amazing now that it's back against his erection.   
Scott looks away, no longer invested. He’s not exactly known for his long attention span.   
  
Stiles waits for him and the other Alpha to recommence talking before he answers.   
**Shit. Chris. I’m leaking. Are you hot for me? Hard for your baby boy? I wanna slide your fat cock down my throat. Let you push my face into your pubes until I’m gagging on your meat.** SEND.   
**I'm going to let you fuck me sideways while I suck Peter dry. You both just wait.** SEND.

There. If that doesn’t make Chris get up from the table…what will?!  
Stiles opens a different chat. He's the epitome of the cat who ate the canary. He selects "Peter Hale" from his contacts and sighs. His fingertips transcribe his devious thoughts.  
**Hey hot stuff. I've got your bf Eiffel towering right next to you. Gonna make him cum hard right here at the table. You're next. When all this is done I'm going to devour you. Hurry up and eat your damn cake already so I can feast on YOU.**  
One phone shakes and the other dings. Peter reaches for his back pocket, excusing himself. "So sorry, hun. One sec. It might be important."   
Malia takes a sip of her coffee while she waits. She pulls her hair behind her ears and mouths "Hey" at Stiles. He smiles back, playing the innocent dinner guest. Little does she know what he's been doing to her father.   
  
Peter chuckles, closing the chat without replying, but picking up his dessert fork as he eyes the boy longingly. Stiles understands.  
Meanwhile, the hunter shakes his head, biting the inside of his cheek. The blood that’s rushed to his dick has made him light-headed. (His generous sex requires A LOT of blood).   
**Baby…keep that up and I will bust in my pants. Right here. I miss your ass so much. I feel your tongue dabbing at my hole. Your wet heat clenching on my shaft. Fuck. I wanna bend you over this table right now and fuck you blind.**  
The IPhone quakes over Stiles’ penis. He wishes Chris would just keep sending him texts.   
Stiles whimpers at the hunter’s suggestion.   
**No way to get up now. Situation critical. I’m gonna cum, beautiful. And so are you. No touching, though. Too obvious. Let's play a game. We get off with just our minds and words. Fuck this is hot. I can feel you. I can feel you pounding into me like you did last night. I can feel you in my throat, in my ass…you are everywhere. I’m yours, Chris. Do you remember beating into me? Or do I need to tell Peter to refresh your memory?**  
  
The scent is getting more pungent. It tickles Peter's nostrils and lights the fire stoking in his pants.  
Chris has begun to sweat lightly, the pulsating monster down below unrelenting. While the others go about their business, Peter shoots the hunter a quick glance and winks at Stiles. One hand disappears into the skirt of the tablecloth.   
Chris' sex hurts. He needs release but he wants to play the game. Stiles said HE couldn't touch himself. Nothing was said about others. He finds Peter's hand on his crotch a welcome relief. The Omega scoots his chair closer and undoes Chris' zipper with a whisper. His horny boyfriend rarely wears intimates, and tonight is no exception. Unbeknownst to the other diners, the hunter's aching cock is now firmly in the hot fist of Peter Hale.  The hunter trembles so badly from lust he has to retype his message twice.   
**I remember. Your pleading soft until I wrecked you and you screamed my name. Over and over again. The way my cum stayed inside you all day today when I plugged you up to the brim, so fucking hot. I bet you still have it in, you little whore. I bet my jizz is still warm inside you.**  
  
"Oh Jesus," Stiles mutters, the heat rising as he scrolls. The plug IS still inside him. His walls are stretched and he'd want nothing else right now then to be dp'd by both men.   
Malia drones on, her father checking out about the time he pulls Chris' foreskin over the oozing head. It's not like the Omega isn't rigid in his trousers. He just doesn't need any assistance in getting off. The delicious naughtiness of the situation is tantalizing him enough. With a squeeze, he tugs on Chris' turgid member. The hunter's eyes roll back into his head and Peter angles his, indicating the progress with a grin.

Stiles knows exactly what is happening and it's sprung him to his full length. He writes a few more phrases to seal the deal.  
**I spread myself for you. More and more because I want you deeper. I'm on all fours, Peter's dick already playing my vocal chords. Every time you bottom out I'm pressed into his bush. Saliva gurgles from me and drips out the side of my mouth. But all I really want is you. I want your sex, hard and deep. I want to see your perfect abs flexing as you roll your hips to finish me.**  
Peter is languidly working the shaft, up and down using only his wrist so as to not draw attention with exaggerated movements. The extra skin slides over the glans, it's outline prominent when the Omega pinches the ridged band at its end. He knows Chris well enough. When he hisses and bucks, it means he's so turned on he won't last long. It's a miracle no one has noticed that the two are acting very strangely. Chris' eyesight swims so badly from desire that he shows the phone to Peter, who murmurs its content into his ear.   
Stiles observes every twitch on the men's faces, proud of himself. His own dick is near explosion. Probably one more text and then he'll ram his elbow into his groin and jet.   
  
**That's it, sugar. You know you want to come. You want to break and soak me in your fucking hot cum. You want to see my cheeks puff out as I drink on your man's salty spunk. Fuck me, Chris. Fuck me until tomorrow so Peter can fuck my face and we all disintegrate.**  
That's it for Stiles. He looks left and right and with no one watching, he massages over his zipper as the denim darkens with his orgasm. He rests his elbow on the table, hiding his face in the crook of his arm as he lightly pants. Biting into the fabric of his shirt is the only way he can stop from screaming.   
When Chris and Peter see that the boy is spent, they too let go. Chris' enormous penis ejaculates into his waiting dinner napkin, the fabric rough against his sensitive crown as Peter taps him dry. The hunter sucks in a lament so hard his lip splits.

Less conspicuously and with more aplomb, Peter blows his load into the corner of his hip with just a small twitch. He bunched up the sweater there so the stain would get absorbed by the undershirt. To make it more believable, he spills a glass of water on himself.  
"Oh, I am so clumsy," he exclaims. The diversion gives Chris Argent time to zip up and collect himself. He throws the soiled napkin to the floor, kicking it under the center of the table.  
Stiles' cheeks color pink when he sees how relaxed the two men are, glowing with sexual bliss.   
"I did that," he thinks. "I made them cum in their pants like teenagers."  
  
Scott and Derek can smell the semen in the air, but they don't wanna know. They just don't.  
"Nope," the older Alpha states. "Scott, this one is yours."  
Derek stands to use the bathroom, a sudden need to wash his hands coming over him. "If you'll excuse me a moment," he brushes past the hosts, careful to hang wide. He addresses Chris before leaving the room. "I hope you wash those napkins," he quips.  
Scott bursts into laughter, and Peter and Chris smile slyly. "Oops," Peter declares with a wave of his hand.   
Isaac and Malia look at one another, confused.   
The Alpha elbows Stiles and gives him a reproachful look. "At the dinner table? Really?" he whispers. "Jesus, Stiles."   
The brunette just shrugs, not particularly concerned because it was all extraordinary. "Hey, don't knock it till you try it."  
Scott knows better than to expect normalcy from his best friend. "So which one are you fucking? Peter?" His dark eyes shine with curiosity. His friend's confidence sure has grown since he went through the drama of being the Nogitsune.  
The brunette brushes his plump lips against Scott's earlobe, fingertip tracing a circle onto his thigh. "Both," he whispers. "But if you're interested, we've been looking for a fourth." 


	2. Do We Draw Straws??

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott agrees to fuck the happy threesome. Right after the pack dinner.  
> This is smut, people. Shameless, dirty sex. And even Stiles gets to top a little!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need a cigarette. Warnings? Everyone pretty much fucks everyone in one way or another. If Steter isn't your thing you are not going to like this. If Peter doing Scott gives you the ewws, you are not going to like this. And let's face it, Stiles is just a little manwhore here and I ADORE him.  
> Though not entirely happy with it, orgies are a BITCH to write so please bear that in mind. It was too long in coming so here it is. If I wait for this to be perfect it never will be so... enjoy, you lot of pervs! :D

When Stiles texted the men **SCOTT IS IN!** the remaining guests couldn’t be ushered out quickly enough.

The Alpha was asked why he was staying behind, and the first thing that came to mind (Scott is not the best at lying) was that he and Peter needed to talk about something "urgent." Then he babbled about how he’d be Stiles’ ride back home. (Nevermind that Stiles had driven his Jeep over and everyone had seen it parked outside. Details).

Derek seemed satisfied with Scott’s explanation, mostly due to apathy. He found it odd that whatever the issue was, it couldn’t wait until the next day. Still, it wasn’t the sourwolf’s business, and he had his own affairs to attend to.  
Derek left alone, brooding as usual, but not before making one last snide remark to Chris Argent about the table sex. The hunter patted him on the back and said “I’ll have a fresh set of napkins at the next dinner, Derek. Promise. Thanks for coming.”  
Chris was acting like an Oscar depended on it. Inside, he was a hot, excited mess.

Malia offered to stay and help clean up, but her father, ever the gracious host, insisted she go home.  
(He was known to be extremely polite… evil, but polite. Here the charming concern for his child was born of a cock so hard he could barely breathe.  The prospect of fucking Scott was so hot NOTHING would delay this any further).

“Chris and I pay people to help, sweetheart. You get on home. Isaac, do you mind getting my daughter back safely? Thank you.”

Isaac had his arm looped into hers quicker than Peter could finish the phrase. The little beta had something of a crush on the pretty werecoyote. He had planned on declaring his love and maybe finally kissing her tonight. Peter had just given him the best excuse to be alone with her.

So with everyone who isn’t part of this possible foursome gone, the reality of his choice sets in when Scott is accompanied to the master bedroom.  
The Alpha is sitting on the edge of Chris and Peter’s enormous bed, Stiles right next to him, their knees touching. His hands tremble enough to be noticed, and his crooked smile looks more nervous than happy. Scott feels short of breath.

Chris and Peter study him with endearment from their perch on the loveseat in the corner of the room. They're wrapped into each other like a pair of cats. 

“Don’t be nervous, Scottie,” Peter suggests. “We’re the only two in here who really bite, right?” Peter winks and Stiles and Chris chuckle. Chris’ pants are strained on the crotch. His ample hard on is _more than_ obvious.  
  
Scott relaxes enough to smile. “It’s just, I’ve never done something like this is all. I guess there’s a first for everything.”

Stiles leans over and touches his friend's tanned cheek with the back of his hand, the other caressing the Alpha’s thigh. “It’s going to be fine, Scott. Do what you feel comfortable doing, no one will ever force you. This is a safe place. If you don’t dig the groove, you can watch. We’re quite the sight together.”

The wolf nods in understanding, his dark eyes darting all over the room.

“So,” Scott clears his throat. “Um… how does this work? Do we draw straws? Who goes with whom first? I mean, when you have Stiles, do you have like a calendar?”

Peter belly laughs, elbowing the hunter to intervene. “Awww. Such innocence. Please go explain to the child how an orgy works, Christopher.”

The normal threesome understand that the “boy” is anxious. If he doesn’t relax, he won’t enjoy this at all. Chris shifts from under Peter and joins the other two on the bed.  
Large hands rub Scott’s wide, tense shoulders.

“Scott, relax. You know, it all just happens. It’s kind of a go-with-the flow type of situation. Sometimes I’m the only one who has sex with Stiles, other times it’s just Peter and I watch. Often, it’s all three of us. It all depends on the mood. Why don’t we stop talking about it and just kiss for now? Help you relax. You choose who you’d like to kiss. Don’t worry, nothing will happen without your consent, okay?”

Between the massage and the hunter’s kind words, the Alpha feels more at ease. He looks over and Stiles is still fondling his thighs though with both hands now. They are near to his crotch but not yet touching _it._

 _It_ is _very_ erect. A part of it is nerves, the rest the anticipation of what it will be like to touch and be touched by 6 hands.

  
Scott glances from Stiles to Peter, and back to Chris, who smiles at him warmly. "Fuck that beard..." Scott muses. "Such a Daddy.." 

“I think I’d like to kiss you, Chris. And if Peter and Stiles want to… play with me there, I’m okay with that. Then we can see where it takes us? I’m sorry I’m so nervous, it’s just…”

“Scott,” Chris interrupts him. “Shhh. Just lay back, get comfortable. Nothing to apologize for.”

Stiles, popping the button on his friend’s jeans, agrees. “We’re all here to make each other feel good and have fun. So hush. Can we take off your clothes, Scott? That usually helps haha.”

The Alpha nods. Then he gulps.  
“Okay, this is happening.”

-

Scott is guided down by Chris’ strong arms. The hunter removes Scott’s shirt, throwing it to the chair, and proceeds with his own stuff, leaving himself nude shortly after. (He wasn’t wearing any underwear at dinner which was handy).  
An eight-inch boner points up at a 45-degree angle, already dripping from the slit. Chris knows what's between his legs and loves to see the fresh reaction each time. 

“Hope you don’t mind if I get naked, I hate the constraint of clothing.”

Peter and Stiles are no longer impressed, having “been there” so many times before. But Scott… Scott can’t tear his eyes away from the magnificent cock so near to his face. It's just beautiful. Uncut and rather proportioned in terms of the glans and balls. Just enough pubes to make it fucking hot as hell.   
“No,” the Alpha whispers. “Don’t mind at all.”

Chris Argent’s body is perfection in form and grace. Scott is honestly affected. He wants to explore every inch of that statuesque physique.  
The Alpha grows bolder, reaches for Chris’ hand. The man lies down at his side, immediately angling for his slick mouth.

Stiles grins to Peter, who is now shirtless himself, the top half of his muscled body poised by Scott’s crotch. Peter's nipples are a little larger than Chris' and a lot more sensitive. Stiles knows.  
Peter assists Stiles in removing Scott’s underwear and pants, his friend already lip-locked with the handsome human as they mew.  
  
Chris glides his fingertips over Scott’s chest, his touch light as a feather, and the wolf whimpers when he tweaks a nipple.  Scott finger walks to Chris’ cock and thumbing the head, gets him to moan "fuccckk" in response.

“Yeah, this will go just fine,” Stiles thinks, bursting out of his pants. He nods to Peter who joins him in getting naked.

 -

Scott is sucking on Chris’ tongue. They resemble two golden gods, something you’d see inscribed on a pyramid, as they knead into their strong backs, chest stuck to chest.

Peter and Stiles kiss briefly, their dicks glistening from pre-cum as they rub and stand to attention at their bellies. Stiles clenches, the plug still inside him. The purple jewel decorates his asshole, visible to Peter when he purposely bends over the edge of the bed.   
He spreads his cheeks obscenely. "Like what you see, baby?" He's got that mischevious look in his eyes that he always gets when he's horny. 

“Oh sweetheart, you’re killing me.” Peter strokes his shaft, gaze fixated on the sparkling stone. 

“Scott, can I suck you off?” Stiles’ tongue is hovering over the perfectly rounded head, hoping his friend agrees. He’s seen it before, the Alpha’s cock, but never erect. It’s darker than his complexion, the tip a deep red. Holy fuck it’s big and soooo inviting.

Scott breaks his making out with the human long enough to beg. “Fuck Stiles, please… do it...”  
"Stop distracting him," the hunter chides.   
  
Chris guides the boy down his cock, past the downy balls. “Put a finger in, Scott.”  
  
The Alpha tugs from the swollen glans to base and then finds the tightness. "Argh, fuck Chris..."  
He goes knuckle deep.  
  
“Fuck, baby… like that,” the human hisses. He gently rocks. A second finger disappears, and then a third.

As Stiles swallows his best friend’s cock, Scott jerking in reaction to the incredible warmth, Peter leans over the brunette's creamy and taut frame.  
"Time for this to go..."   
He gingerly removes Stiles’ plug with a squishy pop. The steel is body temperature and shiny with bubbly secretions.   
  
The brunette’s asshole sighs, day-old cum dribbling out in an obscene, pale river.

“Oh Jesus,” Peter groans, remembering how he and the hunter had both cum inside him. “It looks amazing, baby. If I wasn’t in a hurry to fuck you, I’d feed it to you.” A low growl escapes his lips.

Stiles smiles around Scott’s cock, dimples on either side appearing on his mole-speckled cheeks.

Peter figures he’ll get his turn with the pretty Alpha, but for the moment he wants a piece of his baby boy. With a grunt, he pushes into Stiles with ease, the little tease spreading his legs further in offering. Stiles’ skin is peachy and soft, the scratches Peter is leaving show up crimson against his natural pastel coloring.

“Baby you feel so good,” Peter growls, arriving to the hilt as he grabs the boy by his haunches. He lunges in and back out, like jabs. Stiles chokes in time to his lover's thrusts against Scott’s huge cock.  
  
Stiles grumbles from his full mouth. “Harder,” he asks. His member hangs, bouncing below as Peter drives his sex into him. Jesus he would like nothing else than to jerk off. Spray his shit all over Scott’s face.  
  
Little “ughs” vibrate on pulsating flesh. It's a moment of silence, enough to take a breath, and then they break.  
  
The Alpha tenses, the brunette tenses, the Omega tenses. They come almost at the same time, a domino wave of jizz.  
  
“FUCKKKK!” Peter screams, the cinch on his shaft unbelievable from Stiles’ orgasm which soaks Scott’s inner thigh and the silk sheet below.  
Stiles whimpers, barely audibly, with a mouthful of cum and cock. An industrial amount swishes around in his mouth, extra thick and kind of sweet. Did Scott eat pineapple recently?  
  
Peter leans over, pulls him up by the chin. "Spit it in my mouth, Stiles." Drops and then a thin stream. The Omega licks Stiles' tongue and drinks it down. Peter smacks his lips.   
"Did Scott have pineapple?" 

When Peter and Stiles regain lucidity, they are intrigued by Chris’ loud lamentations. They find Scott on one elbow, nose-deep in Chris’ pubes. The human’s large fists stay Scott’s face as he fucks it brutally.  
No wonder Scott didn’t scream when he came. Only small gurgles are coming out as spit trickles from his chin in little necklaces.  
“Such a good little cum whore,” Chris wails. "His pelvis does a twist thing and Scott loses it. Trembling palm seeks the half-hard dick resting on his groin.  
The Alpha just barely grazes his sex before it starts flooding with blood again. 

“Holy god,” the brunette says to himself. His own painful erection is really needing attention again.

 This combination goes on for a bit until the men get bored. Chris has the stamina of a horse.  
(And he’s hung like one, too). Mostly, he hates coming too early. He's more for quality than quantity. 

Scott, lips ruddy and eyes blown in lust, whispers “I want Stiles to fuck me.”

Grins all around the room. “I thought you topped, Scott?” is Peter’s query.

The Alpha shrugs, muscles tight under amber skin. “First time for everything…”  
  
-  
  
Some rearranging on the bed. The brunette is excited.  
Stiles will not lie. He rarely tops and he actually rather enjoys it when he does.

“I’ll prep him,” Chris offers as Peter gets on his knees at the top of the bed. Scott is right back at it, like giving blow jobs is his fucking job. Gorgeous mouth back to sucking an equally impressive Omega cock.  
He licks, swirls, and adds suction. Concentrates more on the head, Peter’s praise making him understand that is how he likes it. "Fuck, Scottie. Right there. Suck it like a tootsie roll."  
  
Chris and Stiles just watch for a bit, mesmerized. “Who knew our little Scott gave such great head?” Peter pants, raking his fingers through the dark waves.

Stiles is fisting his base, his other hand playing with his balls. He takes in the scene of the hunter’s oiled fingers disappearing into the dark cleft of the Alpha’s superlative backside.

“He’s so tight, Stiles,” Chris’ deep voice rumbles in his chest. “Jesus, so tight. Come here.”  
  
Chris is four fingers in, Scott giving Peter one of the best blowjobs of his life as he gently bends back into the touch. “Faster, Scott,” the Omega instructs, and the Alpha bobs quicker.  
“Fuck yeah, like that my little cum whore..are you going to swallow for me?”  
  
The hunter opens the Alpha like a morning tulip, the ribbed dark brown tissue just begging to be fucked.  
“Please, Stiles…” Scott’s hoarse voice is barely a whisper. His tonsils have been beaten to oblivion.  
“Fuck me.”  
His best friend is nothing if not obliging. Stiles may not be as big as the others, but he is thick. The stretch is almost too much, but it’s exactly what Scott was craving. He just wants to feel FULL.   
  
Stiles works him, the drag on his cock perfect. He digs into the Alpha’s slim hips and pounds away.  
“Ugh fuck… Yes….” Scott’s eyes drop to the back of his head.   
Stiles fights the heat, the constriction. Like a hand around his throat but it's his sex...   
  
Peter releases Scott's head. He's close, his furious stroking bringing him to the end. “Stick out your tongue.”  
The Alpha obeys the Omega, and soon Scott’s long, pink tongue is nothing more than a spunk pool.  
  
Scott swallows, as instructed, leaning up for a sloppy kiss from the older wolf.  
“Oh baby, why didn’t you join us sooner?” he pulls gently on his lower lip.  
Peter lies back, spent under the Alpha.  
  
Stiles continues his assault, the headboard banging loudly against the Tuscan stucco. “Mmmm fuck,”  hums from his beautiful mouth. "I'm close, shit. Scott...your ass is so fucking tight!"  
  
At this point the only one who hasn’t gotten off at least twice is Chris. But he likes the torture. He makes himself think of the worst scenarios to stay off his orgasm. Chris enjoys a vulcanic blow at the end, in a way that makes him lose reason.  
Like now.  
  
Stiles is folded over Scott who is on all fours with the Omega underneath, stroking him off.   
The boy’s beautiful pucker is just waiting…  
  
Chris steps behind Stiles, his lube bottle pointed right above the mounds of his bottom.  
Long drops fall and it’s a dark, red stain on the sheet below.  
  
Some of it must have landed where needed. Chris isn’t particularly concerned. Stiles wore the plug for over 24 hours and just got fucked by Peter.  
"Bring it back, Stiles. Give it to your Daddy."   
His sex is his sword. Stiles falls apart, giving himself completely.  
The hunter impales the young man, like he has a hundred times before, except now there’s a see-saw element to his movements. Chris barely stirs, he waits for the recoil to basically allow Stiles to fuck himself on his cock.  
Blue eyes sparkle… just watching this fuck train from behind will make him bust in a minute flat.  
  
Between the grunts and moans, Stiles’ “Jesus fucking Christ!” and Scott’s “Dude… you’re breaking me, MORE!!”… well… no one is safe.  
Stiles twitches, seeping semen into Scott’s ready ass with two long, hot spurts.  
“Holy mother of…”  
The brunette's arms give and he topples onto his best friend. This lifts his ass into the air, the perfect angle for Chris to let go into his heat.  
  
“Oh well when you give it to me this way, pumpkin…”  
His ripped arms tense and with one last upward blow, Chris disintegrates. It’s a body-rocking earthquake and the hunter can’t help but roar.  
Peter enjoys the view.   
The Omega's expert ministrations spill a lake of cum in the ridge of his six pack as Scott simply collapses, his mouth wide open in shock and pleasure.  
  
“Oh my fucking God,” Scott wheezes. “You are all… I just can’t…”  
  
Chris kisses the back of Stiles’ neck, breast heaving. The brunette, in turn, reaches up for his best friend’s mouth. As Scott and Stiles kiss, Peter cuddles into them sweetly, scenting the body parts nearest to his face.  
  
“Gentlemen,” Chris relaxes into the bed, the back of his hand on his reddened forehead, “I’m calling it. Give me an hour at least because this was too much.”  
"Old man," Peter quips. "No stamina left."   
  
They all laugh, the four men caked in sweat, cum, and dried lube.  
  
“I’m really glad I said yes,” the Alpha grins stupidly.  They curl up into each other, Stiles nuzzled against Peter’s broad, hairless chest.  
“You’re welcome to join us whenever you like, Scott,” Chris breathes. “Why don’t you convince Derek to be our fifth? Give his uncle something to get a heart attack over.” Chris winks. He's kidding… and yet he’s not. That Alpha is one he's been coveting for a while now.   
  
Peter’s eyebrows arch, cornflower eyes ablaze. “Don’t threaten me, Christopher. I’ll fuck my nephew right in front of you. You know I have no shred of decency left.”  
Stiles saucers his cinnamon eyes at Scott and giggles. “Now that is something I’d die to see. The sourwolf being a taught a lesson by his Omega uncle.”  
  
The hunter leans in and kisses Peter. “Challenge accepted. Next Pack Dinner.”   
Peter smirks. "We're gonna need a bigger bed. And some chains."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael here apologizing for the delays. Other updates you are waiting on ARE coming, the rape fic closure chapter is nearly done and I'm writing the fic where Derek has a cat named Pebbles who sneaks into Stiles' apartment and eats his food. Remember that prompt? Barely? I know, my bad.  
> I've had a rough few months but after cleaning some negative people out of my life I am back and definitely more serene.  
> Enjoy, kudo, comment.  
> I really appreciate your patience and your loyalty, kind readers. Namaste.


End file.
